


Honorable

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Chiccolo, Mentions of Death, Post Cell Games, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10232534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: He's going to make sure he's worthy of the title.





	

Chichi sits alone, handkerchief in hand as she silently dabs her cheeks just under her eyes, a stunning image of stoic beauty, quiet and still as the heavy weight of loss weighs her down until she feels as if she can't breathe.

Piccolo watches her from across the outlook, somehow knowing just how heavy that grief is. She's always borne it, he thinks. Always carried the burden of being a warrior's wife, watching and waiting as her husband flies off to fight some unnamed foe she'll never meet. It's as distant to her as anything, but the effects are so very real.

Goku is dead, and she is, once again, alone.

The others have given her space- know she wants privacy to mourn once again as her husband refuses to return. It's not the first time he's done this, and Piccolo sees the same sorrow darken her eyes that never quite seems to leave. Somehow it seems darker this time.

Wordlessly he approaches her; Gohan is sleeping in a room not far away. He is exhausted after the fight, exhausted from having his father ripped away from him once more.

It's a terrible burden, Piccolo thinks, to save the world. It's a burden he wishes he could take from this family, who never asked for this life and yet embrace it with the same determination and heartiness as any warrior.

Chichi looks up when he reaches her, then looks down at her lap where her hands fiddle with the damp cloth.

"Thank you for watching over Gohan," she breathes, and Piccolo can hear the quiver underneath her words.

He sits beside her, Chichi moving slightly to make too for him. He feels awkward, hunched over as he is on the step in front of the time chamber. He wishes he could turn back time, restore things to the way they were before Cell and the Androids. He wishes Gohan had never been pulled into such a life. He wishes Goku hadn't been so selfish in his selflessness.

"He's a good kid," Piccolo remarks softly. "Strong. Smart." He spares Chichi a glance. "Gets both from you."

A laugh escapes her, followed by a sob and she presses a hand to her heart. "Thank you."

He says nothing more, but stays by her side. He knows Chichi is loud and abrasive- she has to be to run with the crowd she's made herself a part of- but this is a moment for quiet contemplation. Of the loss of one so dear; of the senselessness of it all.

"Piccolo," she whispers, and he can hear the heartbreak in his name and there has never been a villain he has wanted to defeat more: the pain within Chichi is his enemy and he wants nothing more than to reach inside and pull that pain from her. She is not meant to endure such pain. She's not weak, but Piccolo would spare her from it all the same.

"I'm pregnant."

The words are not said with the joy he knows usually accompanies such an announcement. He imagines a time when such an announcement from her lips would have been shouted for joy, followed by an ignorant but good-hearted Saiyan twirling her around as they laugh and immediately start discussing names. Now it's whispered, like she's ashamed to be carrying life in the wake of death, and Piccolo doesn't know what to do.

So he reaches out his hand to take one of hers, and squeezes. She squeezes back.

"What can I do?" He asks. He'll do anything. She is his friend's wife. Beyond that, she is his friend too. He cares for Chichi, her small family that sacrifices more than anyone should have to. He'll do whatever he can, on his word as a warrior.

"Just be here," she whispers, head hanging low. "I need someone to be here."

Piccolo nods. "I can do that."

She inhales shakily and then nods once, resolute. "He didn't know. No one knows."

"He would be happy."

"Would he?" She asks softly. "Sure it's another half-Saiyan to train but... I know Goku loves-" she catches herself and corrects, "Loved Gohan. I know he'd love this child too. But," she looks at Piccolo then, broken and confused and despondent, "But part of me is glad this one won't-" she swallows, guilt thickening her words, "Won't have to know the pain of having and then losing a father. Is that horrible of me?"

"I think," Piccolo says slowly, weighing his words with care, "You want what is best for your child, and that is a noble thing."

She offers him a half smile in payment, and it is the greatest gift he's ever received. "Thank you."

He grunts in response.

"Will you train him?" She asks suddenly, then adds, "Or her. I don't plan to know the sex until the child is born. But... They'll need someone other than me. I can't teach them everything."

"You want them to learn to fight?" He asks, surprised.

Chichi shrugs. "Like it or not, I married an alien warrior. I won't deny my children their heritage, regardless of what I think of fighting nowadays."

"I will do whatever you need me to do," Piccolo promises, "I'm here. For Gohan. For this child. For you." It's his duty, his self-appointed task to guard this family. He will defend them and love them with all he is.

Her cheek, cool from the tears previously shed, rests on his arm. "Thank you, Piccolo," she whispers, "I hope my children grow up to be half as honorable as you."

Piccolo has been called many things in his life; never honorable.

He's going to make sure he's worthy of the title. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written simply to process my grief. My best friend, The--Aquarian, passed away Thursday. I found out yesterday. The world seems so much duller without her in it. 
> 
> She was a huge Chiccolo shipper so I couldn't think of anything else to do except write something she would have loved. I wish she were here to read it. 
> 
> Apologies if it's not very good. I'm processing and mourning and angry and needed a creative outlet to just get some feelings out. 
> 
> She was a beautiful soul, kind-hearted and smart and funny, and I am so grateful to have known her. 
> 
> RIP, Victoria. I don't want to write that, but denial doesn't make it any less real. I love you so much. Be at peace, love. You deserve that after everything. 
> 
> (I don't want to go into details, but she was very sick. That's all I'll say.)


End file.
